Liar
by Silence-Speaker
Summary: Sequel to Troublemaker. M for violence. After the battle against the Chitauri things were good. Well, good under the circumstances. Until they weren't. "Willing to submit yet, imposter?" The chilling gravelly voice asked. Harry closed his eyes, he was so tired of this, so tired of everything.
1. Chapter 1

Right, first, apologies for the delay. I could give a whole host of excuses but I sense that is not really why you're reading this. Just a hunch. (If you are then you really need to find a hobby. Sorry, bad health, school work an completely re-writing the story after I got 30,000 words into it...and laziness. Yep, just blame it on pure laziness.)

Disclaimer: Anyway, themes stolen from Inception. If you recognise anything blame it on the Harry Potter, Avengers and Inception franchises.

Also, updates should be every week or so, as most of it is written I just need to tidy it up and edit.

Also slow build. If you're looking for smut or romance don't bother reading this. That stuff doesn't come. (Until the next segment. Then we'll see.) So you can think of the Loki/Harry thing as friendship if you want and the past Tony/Harry thing barely comes up.

You don't need to read Troublemaker first, it isn't necessary. Suffice to say Tony and Harry had a thing, it was great but not right for them. They broke up amicably. Harry is Master of Death which brings about the usual complications (also, hopefully with some new elements...maybe) and he quit the aurors early on.

xxx

Harry gasped for breath as the unbearable pressure lifted from his head.

It didn't matter that he wasn't truly there, that his physical body on a different plane of existence, because right now (for a while actually) his...soul _was_ here. Which meant that the projection of his consciousness still felt pain, still felt just as if his real body was here too.

Only being half here didn't halt the mental onslaught nor the fact that Harry was trapped here, trapped on this wasteland at the _beings_ mercy.

"Willing to submit yet, imposter?" The chilling gravelly voice asked in a mocking tone that gave Harry a momentary flashback to Voldemort. The tone was the same even if the sound was different.

Harry wearily lifted his head staring at the thing with blazing green eyes. He didn't have the strength to speak and his throat felt like he was swallowing glass when he tried to talk due to the amount of screaming he had indulged in.

With deliberate slowness Harry spat a glob of saliva right at the being in front of him. It fell short of the mark but his intent was clear.

Infuriatingly the _being_ didn't react to this provoking act of defiance and instead sighed wearily as though Harry was acting like an impetuous youth who was refusing to admit to some wrong doing in an elders presence.

Harry didn't miss the almost gloating look of satisfaction the _creature_ wore at his continued resistance.

"Surely you don't wish for such pain?" The huge _being_ asked, in a voice, that through the rough sound of rocks grinding together, Harry caught definite amusement and sadistic glee. Harry simply glared and tried to calm his furiously beating heart and slow his panting breaths.

"No? Well, then, I shall be _merciful_ and oblige your wish." The cruel voice intoned.

Harry sneered at the very thought of this _being_ showing mercy.

His sneer didn't last long before he was lost to bright white pain, searing agony flooding his body, the main part of the pain centring at his forehead as though someone was pushing a white hot poker through his skull, bending and misshaping the bone.

Harry screamed.

His screams broke the silence they were surrounded by and was soon joined by deep, rough laughter filling the nights sky, echoing around with an eerie finality.

The torture may have lasted days or seconds...or anything in between. Harry had long since lost his ability to track time in this place with only the _thing_ for company.

Harry lay back panting on the ground once more as the _creature_ let up on his assault for the time being.

It had been made clear to Harry that the _thing_ did not want his mind broken (yet) and that he, Harry, would provide endless entertainment for _it_.

_It_ also took pleasure in slowly dragging Harry's thoughts out of him, his memories in between bouts of torture. Harry couldn't really say he was glad for the reprieves, sometimes he preferred the physical torment.

"Now, now, I thought you would at least be courteous enough to use my name." The voice chided.

Pain rocked through Harry and he bit his lip. It wasn't the unbearable pain that he had been subjected to before, which Harry compared to the cruciatus curse, but it was still painful.

Harry hated that this _thing_ had access to his thoughts.

"Tsk, tsk. And even after I had the good manners to warn you."

This time Harry screamed, his vocal cords protesting but not enough to make him stop. His throat was raw but that was the least of this torture.

"I think it's time for another journey through this _absolutely fascinating_ mind of yours, don't you?" The harsh voice enquired almost pleasantly.

Harry closed his eyes and his body sagged, he was so tired of this, so tired of _everything_.

Thoughts flashed and spun past him, flying faster than a Firebolt and with more fury than an enraged Hungarian Horntail as Harry was forcibly dragged into the depths of his mind.

Just before he was completely sucked into his memories he once again cursed ever having heard the name _Thanos_.

Xxx

"Any change?" Steve asked slightly awkwardly as he entered the communal living room area where Tony sat with Pepper a full glass of something Steve was sure was alcoholic in front of him.

They both had expressions on their faces that indicated a 'serious discussion' had just been had. Steve would have felt like he was intruding had not both their faces turned to relief when he offered them a distraction. Even if it was a rather depressing change of topic.

"His brain activity spiked a bit a couple of hours ago but otherwise nothing." Pepper answered when it became clear that Tony was not going to utter a word.

Steve nodded with a frown as he debated the merits of staying here or going to the rooms Tony had given him in the Tower mere minutes after the New York attack.

In the end Pepper made the choice for him as she patted the chair next to her. He sat where she indicated and wondered what he should say. Or even if he should say anything at all.

"Maybe his um...magic does this sometimes? I mean do..." Steve trailed off as Tony snorted in derision.

"The doctors did say it's likely he will wake up soon, that it's like he's in a coma only-"

"You weren't the only one at the doctors briefing, Cap." Tony interjected in a mocking tone of voice.

Steve resisted the urge to give a small smile. If Tony was being snarky and assigning nicknames again it meant he was in a slightly better frame of mind than Steve had seen from him in days.

"Well if you need anything..." Steve began as he stood to leave the room. Tony waved his hand in a dismissive action that nonetheless informed Steve that Tony had taken his words in.

He noted Pepper was holding her pen so tightly her knuckles had gone white; despite the pleasantly bland expression on her face she was tense. Rattled. Tony didn't look any better.

Steve paused at the door a frown momentarily crossing his face.

"Does he have any relatives to inform? Friends?" Steve queried not having considered it before, much to his shame. Harry had collapsed nearly a week ago now and it was only days after that Steve even contemplated Harry's attachments outside of the Avengers.

From the expression on Tony and Pepper's faces he wasn't the only one to realise the remiss.

"I-He-Harry's not very talkative, even less so now. He did mention a couple of close friends but...maybe his file will have a phone number or something. He's an orphan but has an aunt and cousin...I'll see if I can dig up anything else." Tony said getting to his feet and his eyes gleaming slightly at having _something_ to do and not just sit there and mope.

Pepper got to her feet also and smoothed down her impeccable blouse and pencil skirt combination.

"I'd better get back to work; there are a lot of things I should have completed three days ago..." Pepper excused herself as she tapped away on her phone.

Steve eyed the tiny contraption with instinctual distaste. Technology was useful, Steve acknowledged that, but did it have to be so difficult to use?

His fingers and thumb were often too big to select each letter individually on the touch screens.

For lack of anything better to do and wanting to feel helpful, Steve followed Tony to the lab where Dr. Banner was currently absconded in.

Tony had, in his usual over the top manner, made sure there was something for everyone of the Avengers in his tower, newly refitted and refurbished after Loki's foiled invasion. So while Tony had his private lab rooms there was another set that Bruce and Tony shared (seeing as none of the other Avengers wanted to 'play' in the labs).

Tony had JARVIS scanning (hacking) S.H.I.E.L.D.s files for any mention of Harry anywhere then set to fiddling with some electronic blueprints on the desk making corrections on the holographic monitors. Steve stood at the entranceway and instead of just doing nothing he settled himself on one of the couches in the lab room (it was Tony's lab, of course there was one or two sofas) and slipped the sketch pad he always carried in his pocket when in an idle mood and a pencil.

"Harry made all the electronics explode." Tony stated in a casual voice. Steve let his eyes flicker over Tony's form for a second before turning back to the creamy paper on his lap yet to be marred by any pencil lines. Tony, whatever his tone implied, was anything but relaxed at speaking about Harry.

Honestly Steve was far from comfortable with the subject himself and not just because Harry was laid up on a hospital bed and not really likely to wake up anytime soon.

Steve didn't try to understand what Tony and Harry had been to each other, he knew they had been engaged but that said little about the emotions involved.

Pepper had told him that Tony and Harry had loved each other (and still did) but that they weren't right for one another, they were in love but that wasn't enough.

Steve still didn't comprehend (how could being in love not be enough?) but he didn't really want to delve his thoughts any deeper, Tony and Harry's relationship was their private business and Steve was never really one to pry.

Well...not into personal things anyway. Organisations with machinations against the people of earth were another matter.

It was the result of the break up that Steve was more invested in. They were both part of the Avengers and Steve was the leader (sort of) which meant he was concerned over the teams dynamic.

Harry and Tony were probably the most volatile people on the team and considering the Hulk was a member _that_ was saying something.

Curiously enough Tony and Harry either got along incredibly well or were at odds, arguing with abandon. Steve almost thought they both seemed to _like_ getting angry at the other. Which was stupid.

Wasn't it?

He was quite glad that neither Tony nor Harry ever seemed to hold the break up against one another and that it didn't throw off their capability to work together and with the Avengers as a whole. He really had no clue how to talk to them if it had.

He hardly had any experience in relationships so he wasn't one to talk about them. Plus everyone seemed so open about things barely spoken in polite society when Steve was growing up. It did make him just a little uncomfortable.

He had no intention of broaching the topic but it seemed Tony wanted to talk.

Steve noted that Bruce also was listening intently even as he did...something (Steve's scientific knowledge was scant)...

"Why was that?" Bruce asked. For all intents and purposes Bruce was focussed on his work.

"Something about his magic did something to the electronics." Tony answered.

"Do you know how or what specifically caused the damage? What was affected in the items?" Bruce asked intrigued.

Steve started sketching, he was sure that in a few seconds the entire conversation would fly over his head with all the science those two spouted ad infinitum.

"Direct spells on them caused instant damage. He didn't seem to affect the arc reactor. His phones died on him, some even exploded, after a few days. When his emotions were heightened then things exploded with more frequency." Tony elaborated.

"He wouldn't let me test on his blood. Or him." Tony pouted theatrically. It didn't hold his usual flair nor was nearly as dramatic as just a week ago.

There were tired bags around Tony's eyes and Steve knew for a fact he spent nearly all his time buried in his lab. It was probably how Tony coped, when worried/in doubt/angry/_in any way emotional_ he hid in his lab inventing. He had to be dragged out forcibly to eat, shower and rest. It was the same way Howard had coped.

Steve (wisely) kept that observation to himself.

His prediction became reality when Tony and Bruce started a rapid fire conversation. Steve understood a few words, the 'and' and the 'the'.

He sunk into his sketch, little by little the grey lines forming a more coherent picture.

Tony was, much to Steve's initial surprise, cleverer than even Howard had been. Howard had had vague designs towards building a realistic arc reactor, a couple of plans or blueprints. Tony had taken this and managed to make it a reality in a cave in Afghanistan while held captive and without the lab of high tech gear he was used to.

(The huge one that had been at Stark industries was more a publicity stunt than anything useful.)

Bruce was a genius of a different calibre to Tony but no less intelligent. Steve thought anyway, but he was hardly certified to call that assumption fact.

(It was a little intimidating at times being around two men who thought on a completely different plane of existence to him. Thrilling but intimidating.)

Steve jerked out of his vague thoughts and almost ran a pencil line right through his nearly complete sketch when Tony gave a sharp exclamation.

Tony pulled up more of those hologram screens this time with writing on. Tony frowned.

"That's funny...I could have sworn these files were blank when I last hacked S.H.I.E.L.D. for information on Harry..." Tony muttered to himself. Steve paid him no mind eyes tracing over the files.

He spotted a promising one and not waiting for permission he tapped on the holographic file bringing out holograms of pictures with written information to the side of each picture. Some looked like news articles, in fact most of them did, but the pictures appeared to be moving like a short video on a loop.

Tony pulled up the first photo and the writing and enlarged it somewhat.

There was a grainy photo of a scrawny kid with wide green eyes hidden somewhat behind large round glasses and a mop of messy black hair.

The three of them read the caption and Steve realised it was a cut-out of a larger picture of a few school children in the paper because of the school doing a project or something like that.

The young boy, he couldn't have been more than seven, was wearing a school uniform that looked ill suited to him. The clothes hung off his thin frame a little too much and the school shoes were falling apart. He looked a little scruffy and Steve bet the only reason he was in the photo was because the children in it had good maths scores in their class according to the article which was describing a new maths block being added to the school.

1989, was when the newspaper was dated and Steve raised an eyebrow.

"When was Harry born? He doesn't look more than twenty now and if he was young in this photo..."

"1980, July 31st." Tony answered already scanning through the notes added by the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents presumably.

"He doesn't look thirty." Steve mumbled. But then again, Steve didn't look seventy despite the decades spent in the ice.

"Here. It says he lived with his maternal aunt, her husband and his cousin." Tony pulled out a photo of the three listed.

"I for one am glad Harry took after his paternal side of the family...and his mother." Tony commented as he looked at the photo of a horse faced woman, a fat man and a chubby blond haired boy, all three were smiling at the camera.

The man's arm was around his wife and his other hung over the boys shoulders. They looked like a typical loving family. You could almost feel the pride emanate from the large man, saying that this was _his_ wife and son.

Steve ignored Tony's words as he noted that they were all dressed well, not overly expensively but certainly better than Harry. Their clothes all fit and looked well taken care of.

Maybe Harry had had an attachment to those baggy clothes?

"His parents were reported to have died in a car crash when Harry was still a baby. They died but Harry escaped with a thin lightning bolt shaped scar to his forehead." Tony read aloud then snorted. Steve shot him a questioning look.

"There are no records of any such crash involving a Mr and Mrs Potter with an infant that night and there aren't any formal papers that place Harry legally with his aunt." Tony explained.

"Look here." Bruce interjected pointing at a certain paragraph.

Steve felt his eyebrows rise of their own accord when he read about a mass murderer who targeted Harry's parents (and him), a wizard also.

It seemed Harry's parents had died from something much more insidious than a car crash.

"Hang on, is that a newspaper article?" Steve questioned looking at a particular article with what seemed to be a large photograph of an atrium with a golden set of statues behind a stern faced woman. The only reason Steve could see that made this impossible to be a picture was the fact the woman was moving about, making gestures presumably to emphasise her words as she paced.

"'Minister Millicent Bagnold defends the Wizarding Worlds right to party after the defeat of perhaps the worst of Dark Lords to ever darken the earth.

'I assert our inalienable right to party.' Was what the Minister said when confronted by the Head of Muggle and Magical relations who wondered if the Statute of Secrecy was about to dissolve through the careless actions taken by the majority of the wizarding world this fine day.

The Minister was firm in her belief that although the dark times are over that this will only be a brief reprieve before hard work kicks in to heal the damage from the war, You-Know-Who and his followers - some who still are causing havoc throughout Britain.

The Minister has said not to fear as she is setting the Auror Department on the remaining Death Eaters trails imminently; promising them a bonus and extra holiday once the threat is over.

In other news Lord Lucius Malfoy is to be pardoned on plea of being Imperiused...'"

Bruce stopped reading the article aloud and just blinked as the woman in the picture seemed to be pointing at them and saying something with admirable passion, brown eyes flashing and the glasses perched atop her head bobbing up and down.

"Is that a Wizarding newspaper?" Steve asked baffled. He was sure that if this (and the other digital versions of the newspapers) was actually printed then surely the Wizarding world wouldn't be a secret now?

"Yup. The Daily Prophet. Huh, I could give them tips for a better name...something like Wizarding Weirdness...or Magical Madness...maybe even Men in Dresses..." Tony muttered looking at the picture of several cheering men and woman all wearing what appeared to be brightly coloured dresses and toasting the camera with their drinks.

Steve looked away when he thought he saw an index finger in one of the drinks and a man pulling out his own eye. He hoped it was fake.

"Robes. Do they still wear them?" Bruce asked with a slow blink.

Tony smirked. "Oh, the teasing I could put Harry through...are there any pictures of him in a dress?"

Tony riffled through the photos gleefully while Steve and Bruce shared a look.

Well, at least Tony was happy.

"Aha!"

Tony pulled up some photos and his smile seemed to get even more gleeful, a feat Steve hadn't thought possible.

There was Harry, looking only a bit younger than the man they knew, dressed in what looked like a school uniform with a robe thrown haphazardly over the top.

Steve studied the picture. Harry seemed different in it, both lighter and more subdued than the Harry who was currently unconscious in the newly made medical suite.

He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his black trousers, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a grey vest and a red and gold tie completing the picture. His hair was as messy as ever but round glasses perched on his nose.

The picture blinked at them before turning to the red haired man at his side and the bushy haired woman with a grin. The three turned as one then headed off to the lake seen in the distance.

Steve eyed the relaxed shoulders and the uncaring bright grin, eyes only partially shadowed.

The Harry in the photograph was relaxed in a way he didn't think was possible for the man he knew.

Bruce whistled next to him and Steve turned to see that Bruce wasn't looking at the picture but the accompanying article.

"'Our Saviour, Harry Potter, elected five months ago to return to Hogwarts to attend his final year instead of heading straight into the Auror office to the position he was offered. His two closest friends, and rumoured to have helped the Boy-Who-Lived the most during the war to defeat He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, Pureblood Ronald Weasley and Muggleborn Hermione Granger also attended the reopening of Hogwarts under Headmistress McGonagall.

The Headmistress was said to commend this attitude towards learning stating sternly that avoiding getting ones NEWTS would not help ones future...'"

"What are NEWTS? And what's this about a war? Saviour? Boy-Who-Lived? He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named? What is it with the hyphens?" Tony nattered on to himself pulling up more files as well as a poster.

"Undesirable No. 1." Bruce read aloud. Tony snorted.

"Well they're being extremely sarcastic there; he's like desirable number 2, with me just ahead, maybe 1 at a stretch."

"There's a reward for his capture, something about galleons..."

Xxx

-He was sitting huddled in his cupboard, arms wrapped around his knobbly knees.

There was a thin stream of light coming from underneath the door, a small chink making the gloomy room just visible.

The muffled sounds of chatter, laughter and general happiness seeped through the thin wooden door.

His stomach growled but he made no movements, he was supposed to stay silent. It was a little boring, sitting there doing nothing but he didn't want to incur his aunt and uncles wrath.

His licked his dry lips. He was a little thirsty come to think of it but he would be alright until tomorrow when he was released.

Slowly and carefully, he silently lay down on his small pallet bed eyes drifting shut.

It was a good thing he was small for his age otherwise he might not fit so easily in the cupboard.-

Harry blinked and was forcibly jerked out of the memory that felt more real than the ground he was lying upon.

He panted for breath unsure why he felt so exhausted.

Why was Thanos making his watch his own memories? What was the point? Was he trying to seek out the chinks in his armour? A way to hurt him further?

Maybe he had gotten bored of physical torture.

Harry didn't particularly like running through his memories, especially the unpleasant ones, but they weren't going to surprise him, there were no monsters in the corner. They were _his_ own memories, he _knew_ them.

He wondered if Thanos was watching his memories or his reactions to being in them.

Harry, not for the first time, cursed the fact he was appalling at Occlumency. It probably wouldn't have helped in this instance but the possibility had him regretting that foiled opportunity.

"No, not important, not enough information..."

Harry rather thought Thanos was talking to himself without a care that Harry could hear.

And wasn't that a galling (and terrifying) thought.

Harry didn't have long to ponder that before he was once again forced into the maelstrom that was his memories.

Xxx

"...So let me get this straight. Because of a prophecy a kid was supposed to save the magical world and kill the man who murdered his parents and who had tried to kill him several times before.

Now this kid then managed to overcome and kill this megalomaniac even though he had less than half the knowledge, power and everything else.

And this is all because of a prophecy?" Tony finished and shook his head.

"Of all the stupid reasons to rely on a kid. A prophecy. Wizards are nuttier than a nut Sunday complete with sprinkled hazelnuts!"

"And pistachio sauce."

"I mean, look at the sweets! Cockroach cluster, yuck. Do they put real cockroaches in it?" Tony asked with a grimace.

Bruce rolled his eyes.

Of all the things to get fixated on.

"The wizarding world does seem a little backwards." Steve put in with a frown. The blatant prejudice against blood was silly but hopefully things had changed since-he glanced at the date of the article-1998.

"Well done Capsicle, you have the art of understatement down."

Steve didn't respond to the deliberately inflammatory remark.

He was beginning to wish for Harry to wake up purely because Tony was in a mood and because the longer Harry spent in a coma the worse Tony got. Not that Steve wanted Harry in a coma, he didn't want anyone in one and Harry was part of the team and someone Steve got along with even if they weren't especially close.

He wondered if Tony was itching for a fight, an argument like the ones he and Harry happily partook, or if it was his way of expressing his worry over Harry's condition. Probably both.

"Anyway we were trying to find out if we should tell any of Harry's friends about his...condition, is there any information about their addresses? Telephone numbers?" Steve asked reminding them of their original purpose before they had gotten enthralled in the weird world of magic.

Steve wasn't sure if he believed dragons were actually real or not yet. Even though the picture of one was rather lifelike. Well, Steve assumed it was lifelike. It looked real though.

And brooms?

"What about the red haired man, Weasel, and the bushy haired woman, Ranger?" Tony murmured searching through several files, flipping through the holographs with enviable speed.

Steve was 75% sure Tony got the names wrong on purpose.

"They might not have a number." Bruce put in quietly reading what looked to be a report to the side.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if Harry's magic exploded the electrics what's to say the others doesn't too? Plus this report seems to imply that the entire magical world is a little...archaic." Bruce answered rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Surely if Harry is working for S.H.I.E.L.D. then they have emergency contact details, maybe not a mobile but an address?" Steve suggested.

"Yeah...that might not help so much. According to this report there are such things as 'wards' which prevent normal people from seeing the house or even knowing if it is there. Apparently Hogwarts school has some of the best wards and if we ever went there all we'd see would be ruins of a castle. So I doubt even a letter would get there because the post men wouldn't be able to get to the house or have it registered as an address." Bruce again shot down an idea.

"So how does the magical world communicate? It sounds like they're pretty isolated." Steve frowned; surely there was some means of keeping in contact?

"A couple of magical ways. It seems they have teleportation down, an object that causes a different type of teleportation, a way of travelling through fire places and the good old fashion Owl post." Bruce grinned.

"They can teleport?!"

"Yeah, but apparently there's limitations. You can't apparate too far a distance, you can travel further the more magical power, and you can only apparate to somewhere you can visualise, so only places you've been before." Bruce examined the holographic files with interest.

Steve wondered how long it would take before Bruce and Tony were sprouting obscure magical theories and debating the possibilities at a level beyond his comprehension.

"You're looking up limitations when you've just been introduced to the magical world?!" Tony asked incredulously. Bruce shrugged.

"If there wasn't a down side I wouldn't believe it."

Steve left them to it and decided to contact Fury directly. He was better at dealing with people than reading through masses of files.

And who knew, maybe there was another witch or wizard working for S.H.I.E.L.D. that could help them contact Harry's friends.

Maybe wizards communicated through cats or something; didn't a lot of stories about witches include black cats?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer. This will steal a few ideas from Inception and dream sharing but it isn't really a crossover.

Also, any of the warnings affect you then I suggest you either read carefully or ignore this story completely.

Warning:

Past off screen character death. (Non-canonical death.)

Oblique mentions to PTSD like things.

Oh, and torture...yeah, probably don't read this if you couldn't read someone being crucio'ed in the Harry Potter books. It isn't really any more graphic than that but be warned.

#

Fingernails dug deep, one hand into the soft flesh of his thigh and the other clawing at the dusty earth.

Screams ripped through the silence, panting breaths broke the peace.

"Have you had enough, yet, imposter?" Gloating arrogance dripped from every syllable.

Harry's eyes drifted shut of their own accord. He was used to pain (as much as you can be _used_ to it) but endless torture wore down his defences pretty quickly. He was human after all, not a god or some kind of superhuman.

_(The only difference was he didn't _stay_ dead.)_

"Really? Well, as you wish."

Searing agony.

Harry screamed.

Minutes, hours, seconds, days later he stopped. The pain halted.

Harry only wished he could feel glad for the respite. But all he could muster was a sense of dread.

"Time for some more of your recollections, I think. They are most amusing."

-He was standing outside the Ministry of Magic, wand held loosely in his grip the people walking down the street ignoring the invisible man in their midst.

He had on the blue robes of his profession, well supposed 'profession' anyway and an artefact in his pocket.

He had spent the last couple of days tracking down this insidious magical item, a small emerald pendant. It looked so innocent, just an ordinary item.

It was magical in nature however and had been slipped into the muggle world for a reason. It targeted the owner and unless kept in a magically warded safe managed to slowly wear down the owners mental and physical health.

It was muggle baiting in the extreme and that was what Harry dealt with. Finding magical items in the muggle world that did horrific things. Usually cursed items.

But it wasn't the nasty nature of the pendant that had him idling outside the ministry at ten am in the morning on a Saturday (he had located many more horrific items, after all). It was the fact that this was the third time he had tracked down this particular pendent.

The _third_ time.

His superiors were supposed to destroy the items so they couldn't cause further harm, or return them to the wizard or witch if they had been reported stolen.

Harry worked for the silent offices, ones not really known. And he had done so for three years now.

Immediately after the war he had gone into Auror training with Ron and after three years of instruction had been accepted as a fully fledged Auror. He had quit a mere three years later.

The silent department had sought him out to recover magical items. Harry had thought a change of scenery just what he needed.

He enjoyed seeking the items, enjoyed (somewhat guiltily) sneaking into houses and stealing them. It honed his instincts and he was never really one to play by the rules.

(A more secret, more subtle and covert version of Arthur Weasley's job. No erasing memories, no getting seen, radio silence.)

But the second time he had found the emerald pendent (five months after first handing it in) he had felt a twinge of doubt.

His superior had reassured him that it was a different pendent, made by the same person and with the same effects but a different one all the same. Harry had agreed outwardly...but cast an undetectable charm on the pendent so he would know it was the same one if he ever came across it again.

Here he was. With the pendent his superior had _assured_ him had been destroyed. Twice.

Harry grimaced and spun away from the entrance to the ministry. He apparated back to his house, Number 12 Grimmauld Place and entered tossing the pendent from hand to hand.

Right. So he knew his superiors had lied, two of them at least. But how far did the deception extend?

Had his superior been tricked? No, he had assured Harry that it was a different pendent, Louis knew and he wagered Teaps knew too.

Harry grimaced; the corruption in the Ministry always put a sour taste in his mouth, the taste of bitter failure.

He had _tried_ to get rid of corruption during his brief Auror career, he had _thought_ the silent department free of it, they were doing something good-protecting muggles...

Obviously not. Once again he had been naive.

Harry slammed his fist into the wall barely wincing as tender flesh rubbed against bone.

Taste like ashes on his tongue.

He would have to start investigating how far these lies ran.-

Harry gasped for breath as he was once again given back his mind, brought back to reality. He glared in Thanos' general direction.

It wasn't like viewing memories in a pensieve, he wasn't _watching_ memories. He was _reliving_ them.

In pensieves you watched your memory from an outsiders perspective, Thanos made him live through them again, feel the emotions, thoughts he had felt when the memory was made.

But he still didn't know _why_ Thanos was doing it.

A deep chuckle grated through the oppressive atmosphere.

"Haven't you guessed yet? My, my...use that pitiful brain of yours for once."

He hated Thanos being inside his head. Thanos could do something that was essentially the opposite of Legilimency, he read Harry's thoughts rather than viewing his memories.

There, Professor Snape, reading minds is not impossible. Harry thought with a bitter snort.

"What do you mean?" Harry responded, wincing at his voice. It was a hoarse scratchy version of his usual smooth tones and it physically pained him to speak.

A deep sigh made the ground beneath Harry tremble. Harry's gaze narrowed, what did Thanos mean? Why would he be picking through Harry's memories?

"I shall let you come to your own conclusions, imposter, you will see the truth soon enough. Perhaps you may even thank me for the mercy I have thus far shown."

Harry's lip curled at the thought of thanking Thanos for anything.

"Now, now, that wasn't very pleasant."

And Harry again screamed before snapping his mouth shut and nearly biting off his own tongue. He would not give him the satisfaction of hearing his pain. Coppery warmth filled his mouth and Harry spat out the crimson liquid feeling the sting in his tongue which was nothing compared to the agony that caressed his limbs, contorting them into shapes Harry had previously thought impossible for the human body to form.

The pain let up eventually, it always did, and Harry shuddered, shivering uncontrollably on the dusty warm ground.

He barely had time to catch his breath before hurtling through his mind and once again falling into memories.

-He stared at the parchment in front of him uncomprehendingly.

Surely it was wrong-surely it couldn't be-he couldn't have been working as-

He thought-he thought that-he thought the silent department had been protecting muggles...

Not profiting on their distress.

One or two people in the department, like him, worked on that ideal, the ideal that they were helping the muggles, collecting items from the magical world and returning them.

But only one or two people.

The others were-

Half of them were putting out the magical items into the muggle world to kill/torture/maim innocent non-magical people while the other half sold the items found on the wizarding black market uncaring that the item would be sent back to the muggle world to cause more harm.

And as it was a silent department their actions were less on display so this was all easier to accomplish under officials eyes.

_(How could he have been so blind?)_

Harry closed his eyes and breathed out harshly. His eyes snapped open and he glared at the wall.

This had to stop. He had to stop it.-

Harry stared up at the sky, the black abyss he could see speckled here and there with an occasional star. He turned to look at Thanos.

"Why?" He breathed eyes slipping shut with exhaustion.

"Your world has an apt saying, know your enemies."

"Why am I an enemy?" Harry asked, eyes itching with tiredness. He shoved the feeling away, fatigue was the least of his problems.

"Your title." Came the answer for once bereft of amusement. Malice, though, that was evident.

Harry frowned. His title? He didn't have a title...he wasn't a Lord or anything like that...Perhaps as an Avenger?

His breath caught when he realised what Thanos was referring to.

Master of Death.

"What about it?" He asked, his voice a little stronger now he was finally getting answers.

"Imposter," Thanos hissed, "No one is the master of Death, she has no master."

Harry blinked was that possessiveness in Thanos' voice, protectiveness? Yearning?

"Wha-"

He wasn't allowed to finish and once more his screams filled the air.

Harry panted hands twitching spasmodically his limbs trembling uncontrollably. If he had been lying on a bed or pallet he would have surely fallen off from the near violent tremors wracking through him.

It hurt to shake. It hurt to lie still but less so, if only his body would cooperate.

"Take him away. Keep watch. Do not let him escape." Thanos' voice boomed around, coming from his left, his right, above, below, piercing through everything and slowly bringing Harry back to awareness.

He blinked fuzzily. What? Take who away?

He felt movement and tension in his arms.

It took Harry an embarrassingly long time to realise it was him being dragged away by someone, or something.

Oh. So Thanos hadn't been talking to him after all.

Harry wondered how long he had spent in front of Thanos, being melded to the creatures every whim and fancy. He also wondered why on earth he was being taken away now.

Did Thanos even need to sleep or eat?

Harry himself felt hollow, hunger turned to a remembered ache. His mouth was dry, and wasn't the last sign of thirst a dry mouth?

Thanos hadn't given him any form of nourishment so far and Harry hoped this wouldn't be the norm.

Dying of dehydration was painful and nasty. And it took three/four long days. Harry knew from previous experience. Not really something he wanted to remember let alone revisit.

"Drink." A sound like nails down chalkboard assaulted Harry's eardrums and his winced turning to the owner of the voice. If he had had a voice like that then...well, killing himself didn't exactly work but he would do something...

Maybe tearing out his vocal cords? They would only actually grow back when he died...again.

If he didn't die after gaining a wound of some sort then he would suffer through healing (not so much considering there were magical ways...potions, spells etc that sped it up) and the new scar/injury would only fully heal once he died.

Harry had spent months at one point with only one arm. He had been involved in a case that had ended...badly (this was before he had quit the Aurors) and the fiendfyre hadn't been put out in time.

The healers at St. Mungos weren't able to do anything with the blackened limb so to prevent the decay spreading (Fiendfyre was a nasty spell and getting scorched by it left more than a scar, the spell residue lingered) his hand was...removed.

Magic couldn't heal everything. That was why Moody had had a wooden leg and an eyeball not his own. Some curses couldn't be countered or cured properly.

Harry had spent three months learning how to move about with only one arm, the other was a stump at his elbow.

It hadn't been all that painful (he regularly gave thanks for pain potions) but it was irritating. Especially the pitying looks.

Then, not three months after gaining the injury (and loosing an appendage) he had died (murdered was more apt a term). When he had woken up he had once again had use of all his limbs, a freshly grown arm at his side.

Hermione still didn't believe him fully when he said he hadn't meant to die just to regain the appendage...

She might be semi right, not that Harry was admitting to anything.

He had played it off as paying an exclusive renowned healer in Switzerland who had 'healed' him. An experimental operation.

Ron and Hermione were the only two who knew the truth.

Anyway, dying was not on the agenda. Who knew how much it might anger Thanos should he (briefly-and he never remembered it) enter the halls of the dead, death's realm?

He glared at the...thing that had dragged him to a dank cavern, a cell presumably, on principal.

The thing didn't even twitch just gestured towards the bowl it had pushed towards Harry.

A brief flare of anger gave him the strength to sit up when he saw the bowl the water had been put in. It was a dog bowl, but that wasn't what had made Harry so cross.

It was the inscription on the side that enraged him.

PADFOOT was carved neatly with an elegant flourish on the lip of the bowl along with a single paw print.

Harry lunged forward and slung the bowl away from him spilling the contents and listening to the resulting clanging sounds before collapsing on the cool hard stone. It was rough and scraped at his skin but Harry couldn't care less.

Thanos had relished Harry's pain in reliving some memories, he lingered on the ones where Harry was feeling the most depressed, the times just after Sirius' death and other similar occasions, times when negative emotions flooded him.

Harry knew it was only memories but when he was feeling the emotions anew and reliving events it was hard to recall this fact.

And it seemed Thanos wasn't done with his torments.

The...thing standing at the entrance to the shallow cave didn't even flinch, disappointingly.

Harry closed his eyes already regretting the rash action. Water was valuable and he had flung it to the ground in a fit of emotion...not clever. Especially seeing as he didn't know if he would get the same courtesy again.

Great.

He couldn't have been with Thanos for more (or less) than twenty-four hours (judging by the dryness in his throat...although with all the torture...) and he was already making juvenile mistakes.

He remembered what one of his Auror trainers had said once.

"'_If ever you're caught, and _you_ will be Potter, don't let your pride rule you. Eat, drink (unless you know for sure it's drugged), sleep. Nobody wants a dead hero. Especially not me, think of all the paperwork.'"_

He snorted in brief amusement, Richards had been a tough love Auror but she was amazing in the field and a brilliant tutor.

Xxx

"Hello, is this Miss Hermione Granger's residence?" Tony asked into the phone (and Steve was still struck by the difference...there were mobile phones now, smaller than the palm of his hand...) with undeniable charm.

"YEAH, JUST WAIT A SEC, I'LL GET HER." The male voice boomed out of the phone and Tony yanked the phone away from his ear looking at the contraption warily.

"HERMIONE! SOME POSH GIT ON THE FELEPHONE FOR YOU!"

"Posh git?!" Tony mouthed incredulously.

"What's a 'felephone'?" Steve asked wondering if this was yet another device he would have to learn about.

"I think he means telephone." Bruce murmured looking almost tickled by the events. They listened to the conversation the phone picked up curiously.

"Honestly Ronald," A female voice chastised the voice picking up in volume so Steve assumed she was approaching the phone.

Eavesdropping on a conversation was not the most immoral thing Steve had ever done but he did feel a tingle of shame on overhearing a talk between two innocent people.

"How many times have I told you? It is a 'telephone' 'Te-le-phone'. You didn't shout through it again did you?" A sigh was audible. "I've just put Hugo down for a nap; Rose is watching the Teletubbies, go watch her."

There was a rustle of movement and the sound of footsteps receding.

"Hermione Granger speaking, who is this?" A crisp female voice spoke clearly. Steve was glad she didn't shout like her...husband? Or partner did.

"Miss Granger, I'm Tony Stark and I'm ringing to talk to you about a mutual acquaintance, a friend of us both who goes by the name Harry Potter-"

There was a strangled gasp.

"I don't know what you want but if you have harmed a hair on his head then-"

This time Tony interrupted.

"That wasn't a threat, I don't make threats I make promises. I, and a few of my associates, just wanted to inform you of your friends condition." Tony paused here, waiting for Hermione to ask.

She didn't disappoint.

"What is his condition?" She asked in clipped tones, not fully able to hide the worry evident.

"Physically he is perfectly fine. The only problem is that he won't wake up." Tony informed her. The sigh of relief over the phone made Steve frown, why was she relieved.

"Don't worry, this happens sometimes. He'll wake up in an hour or two, maybe less-"

"I don't think you understand. Harry Potter collapsed eight days ago and hasn't woken since."

There was silence.

"Where is he?" Hermione asked and despite the fact her voice was nearly a whisper in volume it was no less harsh than the fiercest order.

"Stark Tower, New York. I can have a jet sent over to England in-"

"Not necessary. Mr Stark, was it? Well, thank you for informing me. Me and my husband will be along shortly."

The phone clicked silent.

"She hung up on me." Tony pouted. Bruce looked at him.

Steve felt another joke fly over his head. In seventy years so much had changed. At least human nature was the same. Even if there were wizards and witches around.

But apparently he had just been ignorant of their existence before. They weren't actually anything new.

"Guests tomorrow! I wonder if wizards like Italian...the restaurant on the corner does amazing Arrabiata and they do takeaway for Tony Stark."

Steve and Bruce shared a glance then shrugged.

Xxx

"I'm bored." Tony muttered, tapping away on another of those...tablet thing-y.

Steve ignored him. Again. As he focussed on his sketch.

"When will they get here?" He whined.

Steve wasn't the only one rolling his eyes.

When the rest of the Avengers had heard that some friends of Harry's were popping round they had made themselves present, except Thor-who was on Asgard at the moment, and milled around one of the communal rooms Tony had gifted them all.

"The flight is about twelve hours isn't it? And they refused your jet so add in that time." Clint remarked absently as he looked over one of the various arrows Tony had passed to him when he walked in the room.

Steve sat far enough away that if one of them exploded (again) then he wouldn't be in direct range.

(That meant little when you factored in the fact that Tony had tampered with them...and Steve wasn't totally sure the explosion last time wasn't a prank from Tony.)

"Magic, Clint. I've heard it can do some pretty impressive things." Natasha said dryly.

Clint waved his hand, far too engrossed in his new set of arrows to reply.

"Oh, I've been meaning to mention this for a bit, Tony is there a setting with the lights? I tried asking JARVIS to turn them all off in the room when I went to sleep but he said something about overriding orders. They only dimmed." Bruce asked quietly.

Tony's fingers skittered across the screen of the...thing even faster than before and for a moment Steve thought he was too absorbed to have heard Bruce.

"It's not _the_ room, big guy, it's _your_ room. Big difference. And I'll sort it with JARVIS. There's been some problems since my tower was hijacked by Rudolph." Tony answered a few beats too late, looking fixedly at the screen in his lap.

Steve wondered what he was working on that had him so absorbed. Then he shrugged, he wouldn't understand it even if he was told.

"Sir, there it appears a man and a woman have managed to enter the lobby. They match the descriptions of Mr Potter's friends."

JARVIS's voice never failed to make Steve stiffen, he would have jumped but after the third time he managed to lessen his instinctive response. It was just a little odd to have a disembodied voice talk to you.

"Already? It's only been an hour and a half..." Bruce said slowly, pushing up his glasses.

Tony jumped to his feet, excitement lighting his eyes as he practically skipped down to the foyer.

The others followed, less exuberantly but with their own curiosity.

Steve noticed Clint tuck the arrows into the quiver (when had he put on the quiver? Had it always been there?) on his back and Natasha's hands were loose at her sides in a way that said she was tense to those who worked with her closely.

They poured out of the lift (Steve wasn't the only one edgy in the space of the frankly huge elevator, they were all pretty messed up in his humble opinion) and stared at the two people who had managed to enter Tony's tower.

They were...unremarkable.

Steve felt a tinge of disappointment then chided himself.

What had he been expecting?

Them to sweep in on broomsticks toting round a dragon or two? Transforming themselves from a top hat into themselves?

The woman was average height, probably a little on the short side, with a curling mass of bushy brown hair and sharp eyes and the man was tall, lanky with bright red hair and a plethora of freckles complete with a long nose and clear blue eyes.

They were dressed normally too. Jeans and t-shirts, trainers. Nothing especially magical about their outfits. There was a stain on the man's sleeve.

They screamed ordinary.

Which Steve knew for a fact (unless Tony was playing a very elaborate joke-he didn't put it past him) that they weren't. They really, really weren't.

Not even for wizards and witches.

And yet...

He could pass them in the streets and not know they were anything other than a couple, just into their thirties, enjoying a day out.

He wondered if that was a deliberate ploy, to blend in, or whether it was unconscious.

He noticed Natasha's eyes narrow. He would bet his art supplies she was thinking along the same lines as him and found it equally disturbing.

Maybe disturbing wasn't the right word...unsettling? No, disconcerting, that was it.

"Where is he?" Was the first words out of the woman's mouth, the beginnings of crows feet around her eyes deepening and her lips tight.

"Yeah, where's Harry?" The man reiterated, his shoulders stiff, blue eyes glancing over them all before dismissing them for his greater concern, his friends presence. Or lack of.

Tony, for once, seemed to recognise now was not the time to antagonise or rile up the two in front of him, not when they were so visibly edgy for their friend.

Maybe he did have a survival instinct.

It was the first Steve was seeing of it.

"This way, he's in his room, we had the medical equipment brought to him rather than moving him when he didn't wake after three days...So, do you really eat cockroach cluster?" Tony asked leading them to Harry's room.

Then again...maybe not.

The woman ignored him, single minded in her approach.

The man, however, snorted.

"Nah. Well, only for a joke. My brother tricks people into eating it by saying it's peanut brittle. Very few people actually like it."

"What about Blood Pops then?"

"Well, you'll get weirdo's who eat them but they're mainly for vampires...not that they're any good for them and apparently even most vampires don't like the flavour, too sweet." The red head answered, eyeing the woman just ahead of him with a pinched look.

A nervous twitch of his fingers had Natasha's hand inching towards her belt.

The man didn't notice as he simply ran his hand through his hair as blue eyes scanned the area edgily.

From the worried flare of his nostrils Steve wouldn't have thought he was anything more than a concerned friend. Someone worried about his brother in arms.

And they weren't any different. Steve realised.

They were people, people who possessed a strange energy called magic but still people.

They weren't all competent spys with slightly too piercing eyes like Harry, that was like saying everyone was the same as Natasha.

The world may be different but there was always one fixed point. The people. The magical world was the same.

Steve relaxed slightly.

He could deal with that. It was no different to waking up seventy years in the future.


	3. Chapter 3

**Again sorry for the wait, seems to be a recurring theme. Once again I have changed the fics direction so long waits abound seeing as I'm a slow writer at the best of times and I do have a life (sort of). Updates probably won't be regular...sorry. Maybe in the holidays...**

**Disclaimer.**

**Getting to the fun stuff...well, the parts where I start to properly attack the characters maliciously.**

**Warnings: Not much different to the other chapters, um...Improbably medical magic-y stuff.**

##

Harry shivered as an icy breeze rushed through the cave he was crammed into.

He huddled up before regaining his wits and loosening his limbs again. Loose limbs equalled more heat...supposedly.

Well, that _was_ what his instructors had said but it sure didn't feel like it.

And where was the breeze coming from?

There was nothing at the back of the cave, more like an indentation in the rock, nothing Harry could see anyway.

Yet that was where the breeze was coming from.

He shivered again; glad when the wind finally stopped blowing but also missing the comforting newness, difference it brought to his unchanging cell.

He didn't know if it was to discomfort him or because there was a way to escape but his left wrist was chained to the rock behind him.

Maybe it was to make his prison less metaphorical...considering he wasn't really here.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Harry thought sarcastically.

For all intents and purposes he was on this...whatever this place was, Thanos's home? He was here body mind and soul if you wanted.

He wondered if he had simply disappeared from earth or if any time had passed...

Time was different in this place, Harry could sense it-feel it. But did that mean that years had passed on earth or seconds?

He shook away his wandering (and increasingly morbid) thoughts and tried to think up an escape route.

It was a little demoralising to know that his captor could read every thought that crossed his mind, even escape plans. But he only seemed to be able to sense Harry's thoughts when Harry was directly in front of him, so maybe (hopefully) like legilimency distance played a part in the successfulness.

Harry sighed and made his way over to the dog bowl.

It had been refilled for him once he had tossed out the water. It was a scary thought that he was being 'looked after'.

He cupped his hands and brought mouthfuls of water to drink.

He was not going to lap from the bowl. His pride wouldn't let him, not yet at least.

And yes, Harry knew that pride could kill but he wasn't not drinking the water given so he allowed himself his little act of defiance. Even if Thanos would probably 'punish' him for not taking the hint.

Dying wasn't an option simply because it didn't transport his body anywhere.

His soul might briefly enter Hela's realm or even Death's halls but he always woke up where his body had died and without memory of what had happened while he was dead.

Sometimes he wondered if he said something particularly humiliating when Hela smirked at him, she had admitted he spoke to her when dead. He spoke to her occasionally when visiting her realm not as a dead soul.

Time ran differently in the halls of the dead and so he probably spoke with her or Death for hours but never could he recall what they had talked about when he woke up alive, gasping for breath and brain kick starting.

To him it was like one moment he was shot (or killed in another gruesome way) the next he was breathing, his flesh knitting back together and his mind scrambling to work out how long he had spent unconscious this time. Usually it was under ten minutes. Usually.

He had once been blown up and woken up later in an unmarked grave. Not fun. At all.

It was incredibly frustrating.

But back to the point. It wouldn't help him escape, dying, and it would probably anger Thanos from what he had said about Harry's 'title'. Not something Harry particularly wanted to do.

And killing himself would be pretty nasty seeing as there wasn't a handy gun or knife around...

Yeah, dying was off the table.

Harry clenched his fists then relaxed them, repeating this movement in order to calm his mind. What was getting to him more so than the dog bowl with Sirius' nickname on it, getting to him more than the lack of food, the torture even, was his loss of time.

He had no idea how much time had passed, was passing. Had he spent days on this...place, or weeks? Or even months?

There was no way to tell, no sun rising and setting (and even if there was there was no saying that it would be the same length of time that days and nights were on earth), nothing.

This planet was a void of nothingness.

No breeze, no sun, light only from the millions of stars above, no _nothing_.

(Apart from that icy cool breeze he occasionally felt in his cell, but that didn't count, it was too icy, almost as though frost bite was snapping at his steadily thumping heart.)

On earth everything changed constantly, breeze, clouds moving across the sky, cars driving along...everything. Harry hadn't realised he could miss movement (human bustle) quite so much.

He eyed the chain around his wrist ignoring the hollow ache of his stomach. It wasn't very happy being given only water.

Harry sat back down on the cold rock. He was too drained, physically and mentally, to do anything to the chains. Plus he didn't have his wand, that was still on earth. So magic was out.

Mostly. But his wandless abilities stopped at being able to cast a small lumos charm using a finger instead of a wand. He couldn't cast anything else without a wand.

Hermione said even casting lumos was unexpected.

Not many wizards and witches could utilise wandless magic and it wasn't due to the amount of power you had. Hermione had a theory that it was your attitude to magic that made the ability possible or not but that was a hard thing to test so it remained a theory.

All Harry knew was that he could cast a simple and completely useless charm without his wand.

(Alright, so maybe lumos wasn't actually that bad but what Harry wouldn't give to be able to blast these chains and run until he found some way to return to earth.)

He glanced at the chains, which looked uncomfortably like the ones that had hung in Malfoy Manor's dungeons when he and Ron had been locked there during the war.

Hang on-

Harry looked closer.

For once he almost felt grateful for the pretentious nature of the Malfoy family.

Even the chains in the dungeons had sported the Malfoy family crest and the chains here, on Thanos' planet, too bore the same stamp.

Harry leaned back thinking furiously.

Either this was another attempt to anger him from Thanos or there was a reason these chains were just as Harry recalled.

He glanced around the bare rock cave and the deep purple dust that lay atop of it.

A suspicion curled at the back of his mind.

Did this planet even have metal? The same ores found on planet earth?

Xxx

Steve watched from the wall as the witch, Hermione, did...something with the stick in her hand that produced puffs of smoke, flashes of bright coloured lights and slow whirring sounds. That was what Steve had expected to see when they first turned up. Showy flashes of colour and odd sounds.

They seemed to have a pattern to the woman however as her frown deepened when she looked over the results of whatever she was doing.

She pulled out a perfectly ordinary notepad and pen, like the sort Steve himself would carry around, then instead of picking up the pen and jotting down notes she flicked the stick (wand) and the notepad floated at her head height whilst the pen began scribbling down notes furiously.

Steve's jaw dropped.

Tony looked like a kid in a candy store as he practically bounced and Bruce seemed to be watching with far more interest than he showed the TV.

It wasn't long before he began to feel a little discomfited by the silence.

Generally he was good with silence, liked it even. It was one of the things he liked about Harry. They could spend a whole afternoon in the same room without uttering a single word and it would be _companionable_.

Bruce was always just a little too tense for Steve to feel truly relaxed in the silence, Tony couldn't keep his mouth shut for more than thirty seconds (even when asleep)-his brain just ran that fast that his mouth constantly tried to keep up, Natasha had a watchful air about her that-like with Bruce- just wasn't relaxing, Clint wasn't comfortable in long silences-he said it was good on missions because it meant the silence kept him alert-but having the radio on all the time wasn't enjoying the silence to Steve (Clint even kept the radio on when he slept, as background noise) and –

Well, there wasn't really anyone else, only his team mates. The odd bunch of individuals that Steve found himself glad he was friends (or at least comrades) with.

He shifted from one foot to the other. Bruce twitched. Natasha stilled.

No one it seemed was particularly comfortable. Apart from the wizard and witch in their presence. And Harry. Who looked to be slumbering peaceably, no sign of physical distress or discomfort to be found.

"Well? What's wrong with him?" The red haired wizard asked impatiently, edgily.

It seemed Steve had been wrong in his assessment. No one was at ease.

He could almost feel the waves of restraint it took for Tony not to jump into asking questions or babbling like usual.

"Nothing _appears_ to be wrong with him." Hermione answered with a frown and a distracted air.

"Apart from the fact he won't wake up. Hermione, you know he never sleeps when someone else is in the room also awake. This isn't normal." Ronald, just call me Ron, gestured towards Harry's inert form. "Something is clearly wrong."

"I know that Ronald!" She snapped, looking from her notes to shoot the man a testy glare.

"Then tell us mere mortals what the problem is!"

"I was about to; I was just clarifying the results." Hermione bit back her hair seeming to almost bristle with electricity and become (if possible) even bushier.

"Well go on then."

Steve resisted the urge to but in and tell them that Hermione could have already informed them what was wrong in the time it took for them to argue.

Bruce seemed to be thinking something similar, if the way he was both biting his cheek was any indication.

Hermione plucked the notepad out of the air and the pen fell to the ground with a muffled thump. She seemed not to notice as she scanned the page for something.

"Look here. The results contradict each other. The cognitive test clearly shows that all thought processes in the frontal lobe are-"

"In English." Ron butted in. She shot him a nasty glare.

Maybe they weren't a couple?

"As I was saying," She continued frostily. "The thought processes are at odds with one another. One scan said that Harry was asleep, which we can clearly see, but another said that Harry was awake and his brain activity seems to suggest he is doing something along the lines of a simple Sudoku puzzle or playing checkers, nothing too complicated. The rest of the scans follow this pattern. It wasn't until I did an in depth scan that some rather worrying results came up." Hermione paused, biting her lip in an anxious habit that reduced her from competent woman to a child who had just lost sight of their parents in the crowd.

"They seem to suggest-well," she faltered and compulsively straightened out the piece of paper clutched tightly in her left hand.

"Spit it out." The man urged, looking like he dearly wanted to snatch the parchment from her grip but thought better of it when he realised she could explain _what_ was written on there far more quickly.

"It suggests that Harry is physically low on vitamins, essential minerals...it seems to indicate that he hasn't eaten in a while but he isn't dehydrated. The physical scans were both more informative and confusing. On one hand it says Harry is here, in a perfect stasis, whilst he is also in agonising pain."

She put a shaking hand over her mouth and Ron, who looked no less horrified, wrapped an arm around her shaking shoulders.

"Look, we don't know which of those scans are correct...he might be fine." Ron said, evidently trying to soothe both himself and the woman who was close to tears. She shook her head.

"No, don't you see? Both the scans, all of the scans show up as though there are two Harry's. This Harry is sleeping without dreams, as though he has ingested the Draught of Living Death without the need for sustenance, again as though a stasis charm has actually succeeded to work on a human body. The other Harry, the one with his mental consciousness, is currently somewhere else. Quite probably being tortured." Her voice broke on the last word, losing the crispness she had managed to infuse until then.

Ron's blue eyes shined in his pale face and his lips thinned.

"Well then. We'll just have to find the git who's got Harry and get him back." He said, squaring his shoulders.

"It's not going to be that simple! The magic involved here is incredibly complex; I didn't even know it was possible to put an entire person into stasis; we don't know what we're up against..."

"Then we'll just have to find out. What else can we do?"

Tony cleared his throat.

"I think you're forgetting something."

The witch and wizard looked at each other in confusion before Hermione began rummaging through a small clutch bag she pulled out of her pocket.

Steve found himself gaping again when her arm disappeared up to her shoulder in the small, barely five cm wide, purse.

"Spare wands, essence of dittany plus basic medic kit, books, tent, money – galleons, pounds, dollars, euros, extra clothes, hairs for polyjuice, polyjuice, food, goblin wards...Nope, I don't think I'm forgetting anything." She said turning back to Tony.

"You're bloody brilliant." Ron muttered fervently.

Hermione flushed pink and tucked away the bag.

"I still think you're forgetting something, or rather a few someone's."

Ron and Hermione shared a look again.

"No." Hermione said flatly. Tony frowned.

"Look, I get that you're friends with Harry too and you all care about him but this isn't funny. This isn't a game. The person or people who have Harry aren't some amateur thugs with barely enough brains to string words together-"

Ron was cut off by Clint.

"I think out of everyone in here it's you and your wife who are the ones who don't understand the gravity of the situation."

"Look, we don't have time for this." Hermione said interrupting before Ron or Clint could speak. Ron shut his mouth with a click.

"It's not just that, it's the magical world. It isn't very tolerant to non-magicals at all. And none of you lot would even be able to see or enter quite a few of the places we'll need to visit."

The wizard and witch shared another glance.

"The magical world is very secretive, even more so now than a few years ago, and there are more than a few people with a grudge against non-magicals and nearly as much with a grudge against Harry...that's not even going into the people with both. It's not safe to involve anyone else in this. Thank you for informing us of Harry's condition though."

Tony frowned.

"How do you know it's someone from the magical world who has Harry?" He asked. Steve blinked. Why hadn't he thought of that?

Hermione scoffed. "Because it is clearly the use of magic and-"

"You aren't the only community or group able to utilise a strange form of energy." Bruce said calmly.

"Yeah, I mean, not even counting Loki and all the magic users from Asgard, there are all the other realms, like where the Chitauri came from and that's only the places we _know_." Clint stated.

Natasha simply leaned backwards against the wall in a deceptively nonchalant gesture, remaining silent as her eyes clocked every single movement, facial expression and nervous twitch.

It was in stillness that she always reminded Steve of a big cat stalking its prey. Maybe a leopard. Or a viper.

Hermione's mouth dropped open for a second.

"What magic users? What are the Chitauri? Asgard? And other realms?" She asked confusedly.

"It's an interesting story really, mainly because I'm in a lot of it, but these guys too, they helped." Tony grinned.

Steve shot him a flatly amused look.

"...you mean you guys took on a whole alien invasion by yourselves? And you stopped the nuke from destroying New York?" Ron blinked. "Man, Harry never tells us anything interesting." He murmured with a fond smile and a roll of the eyes.

"Tell me more about these other realms, Asgard, the Chitauri, everything." Hermione demanded.

"That knowledge is classified." Natasha stated firmly.

Bruce, about to answer one of Hermione's many questions, closed his mouth. Hermione looked incredibly frustrated. A crafty look crossed her face.

"What if I had the clearance to know this classified information?"

"You don't." Natasha said, clipped.

Hermione looked crestfallen. Ron pushed a lock of hair out of her face.

"Now isn't quite the right time to get exams monster on them."

"But it's fascinating." Hermione near complained, fingers twitching in her eagerness for more knowledge. Again the two wand waving magicals shared a look that seemed to convey an entire conversation, the kind of look people could sometimes share after years of knowing each other.

"Alright," Hermione said abruptly, turning to them. "I guess you guys can scope out the muggle world, see if you can talk to Thor about these other realms. Just in case it isn't someone from the wizarding world with a vendetta."

Tony still looked a little put out.

"You'll keep us informed?" Clint asked, suspecting the answer was a no.

"Yes, we'll visit at least once a week if we can. I know someone who can get us a return portkey." Hermione murmured, looking sadly at her friend's prone form.

"What about the kids?" Ron asked Hermione, looking somewhat chagrined. Hermione's mouth made an 'oh' shape.

Xxx

-The young boy, barely out of the toddling stage, ran towards him a beaming smile on his round, chubby face, his hair changing colour every time he blinked. Blue fading into purple fading into pink to red, to orange, yellow...

Harry grinned holding out his arms and ducking down to swing Teddy up, spinning round before cuddling the boy close and breathing in the scent of three year old.

Teddy shrieked with delight, sharp giggles shooting right through to his ear drum, before squirming, trying to catch the bumblebee flying behind Harry's head.

Harry tapped him gently on the nose and tucked him under one arm (upside down) then strode over to Andromeda who was watching with a warm smile and an equally warm look in her eyes.

Harry didn't miss the sadness in those dark eyes, it should be Remus and Tonks in their place, but he didn't comment on it for which she was grateful.

"So how has the little monster been?" Harry asked, making sure to jolt his arm. Teddy's squeals of delight once again filled the garden.

"I'mot monser!" Teddy objected before finding more interest in a passing butterfly.

"The usual. Apart from his new penchant for tossing plates. You wouldn't happen to know where he got that from, would you?" Andromeda asked, one eyebrow elegantly raised, not a wrinkle or speck of dust on her flattering navy blue robes.

Harry rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

"There might have been an incident involving plates at the last Weasley do...George was there." Harry explained.

"Down! Down! Green!" Teddy exclaimed pointing at the grass. Harry set him gently on his feet and followed Andromeda to the small outdoor table and chairs.

"I like what you've done with the place." Andromeda said, glancing around the cheery garden with an approving look.

A small smile played about the corners of Harry's lips.

This garden and the house were far cry from what Grimmauld Place had once been.

Harry had needed a project after the war, something to do with his hands that wasn't fixing up Hogwarts or the Ministry but a personal project. Away from people.

So with Kreacher's priceless and expert help he had completely refurbished the house.

He got rid of any dangerous items, the ones still left despite their cleaning of it during the Summer before Harry's fifth year, putting most of them into the Black vault just in case, along with nearly all the portraits.

(He still hadn't managed to get rid of Sirius' mother's portrait but he had managed to silence her with a gag. Kreacher had looked mildly horrified and Harry had received cold meals for a week until Kreacher forgave him.)

A few walls he had knocked down so the rooms were fewer but bigger (they needed to be if he ever invited round the Weasleys for a meal or something-Teddy's birthday party maybe) and all of the odious, mould filled wallpaper removed.

Thanks to Kreacher every room seemed to shine and while most ornaments were carefully put into a vault some of them, the ones not dangerous that looked nice, had been left up (Kreacher was happy enough with that).

It didn't look like a musty, grimy house anymore, nor was it a posh house with wealth literally shining from the walls. It was simple, clean and airy. Comfy furniture was scattered here and there, not matching anything, just there for comfort alone.

It was far from Privet Drive's obsessive neatness and there were no cushions that matched the wall paper.

Harry had installed more windows, some rooms had windows spanning for an entire wall.

But the main thing he was proud of was the garden.

Like the house the garden was charmed far bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside but it had been overrun, the greenhouse filled with various carnivorous plants and deadly flowers...even the air had been toxic from some of the spores.

Harry had cleaned it out and then left it.

He wasn't much of a fan of gardening or Herbology so he left it empty.

He had told Kreacher he could use it if he wanted.

Harry thought he recognised some of the plants now in there as cooking herbs.

(He was just glad there were no more carnivorous sunflowers – he had been bitten nastily by one of them resulting in a trip to St. Mungos – or rabid orchids. And that was saying nothing of the naturally magical plants.)

The rest of the garden Harry had torn up then planted new stretches of grass on the barren ground. It wasn't the best soil for plants but the grass seemed quite happy and Harry didn't want a flower bed or anything of the sort even if Andromeda kept on nagging that one would look nice.

He didn't care much for flowers, or gardening.

It was the first time Andromeda was looking at it fully completed.

Harry usually picked Teddy up from her house and when she did drop him round it was to a flat he had been renting in a muggle area near to her house seeing as Teddy was too young to apparate, floo or portkey with and Grimmauld Place had been too dangerous for an inquisitive three year old.

"He's turning four next week." Andromeda sighed, taking a sip of the homemade lemonade that Kreacher had brought them.

Funnily enough, despite Teddy's 'mixed' heritage, father a werewolf and mother the daughter of a Black family outcast who was also the daughter of a muggle born, Kreacher seemed to take a shine to the young boy.

Harry thought it was because Teddy was such an endearing child.

Andromeda was a little more sceptical and thought it was because he bore the traits of a Black (the aristocratic bone structure), had a black family 'gift'- metamorphagus ability – and because Teddy was essentially Harry's son and Kreacher liked Harry.

It didn't change the fact that Kreacher near doted on the boy. He made Teddy's favourite biscuits whenever he visited, always cooked his favourite food and even used some house elf magic on some toys much to Teddy's enchantment.

The first day that a child's innocent laughter had rang through the remodelled Grimmauld Place quite a few of the portraits (it wasn't only Walburga's that had a permanent sticking charm on the back) had been stunned, struck dumb for a telling few seconds.

Harry kept most of them gagged, only the ones who wouldn't insult people for no reason or subject Teddy's ears to filth were allowed speak.

"Have you read the Prophet recently?" Andromeda asked, faux casually in a very low, soft voice. Harry tensed, fingers flicking towards his wand and eyes instinctively looking for both Teddy and a potential threat.

He didn't relax when he couldn't see anything harmful. Teddy was chasing a butterfly giggling as it evaded his grip.

"No. If there's anything important Hermione tells me it, when she visits."

The lines around Andromeda's mouth tightened.

"You should get a prescription." She advised with mild disapproval.

"I should." He agreed but didn't promise to. She caught his evasion, it was hardly subtle and for all that had passed Andromeda was born a Black where kind words held hidden blades, but she didn't press.

For once Andromeda forwent the word games that Harry usually found both stimulating and tiring.

"The new bill...I am uneasy with the possible repercussions." She murmured, Harry had to lean closer to hear her. Her eyes flickered nervously across the grass, latching onto Teddy for a long, wrenching second.

Harry leaned back and threaded his fingers together, in an effort not to clutch at his wand like he was five years old and it was his favourite toy.

"Worrying?" Harry asked, deceptively mild.

"Extremely so."

Harry breathed in sharply. He was not going to dismiss Andromeda's words, not after her advice and help had been so necessary for him before, even if he didn't like it. The truth was rarely something people liked to hear.

For all her word games and subtleties Andromeda was very straightforward. Too much so for the higher society in the wizarding world.

Pretty lies were swallowed whole while the truth was so often dissected until only a mere sliver remained.

"I guess we both need to brush up on wizarding law and air out those dusty seats in the Wizengamot then." Harry sighed with a wry twist of his mouth. Andromeda blinked then bit back a smile.

"You presume correctly." She took a delicate sip of her lemonade, patting down a curl of her neatly coiffed hair. "May I say, you have a refreshing dynamism. You could be wonderful at politics should you try, I'm almost worried about the Wizengamot now."

Harry rolled his eyes at Andromeda's teasing. He couldn't stand the greasy underbelly of political manoeuvres and the politicians themselves were usually...not to his taste.

He had learnt quite a bit about wizarding law and such, Andromeda had taken almost sadistic delight in teaching him, and it was enough to set him firmly away from it all.

"I hate politics." He grumbled, slicing up an apple for Teddy.

"I know dear." She patted his hand with condescension unasked for. Harry's lips twitched. "I believe that-I think this might-we will need to be very, very careful. The outcome _will_ affect Teddy's future." Andromeda stated, still quietly but the steel in her voice was not to be dismissed. She squeezed his hand before releasing it and taking another sip of her drink. She looked as though she wished it was something alcoholic.

Harry mulled over her words. He hadn't a clue about the new laws that were being passed but from what Andromeda implied (outright stated compared to normal), well, Harry glanced to his godson.

His hair was now just as messy as Harry's and he had Harry's nose and lips.

"Teddy, come and eat your fruit. Then we'll see if there are some biscuits." Harry called. Teddy bounced over.

"Werewolves?" Harry breathed in question. Andromeda tipped her head in a gesture of agreement.

"Lovely." Harry sighed.

A bill against werewolves, just the controversial topic he needed to begin with politics.

He glanced to his godson who was happily munching on the sliced apple and nattering away about the adventures he and the butterfly had had in between bites. Andromeda had enforced that much manners, even at three Teddy knew not to speak with his mouth full.

It was worth it, worth going into politics to keep that bright spark of joy in Teddy's eyes. To make sure he would be as happy in the future as he was now.

And werewolves should never have been treated as second class citizens.-

Harry didn't gasp as he was once again flung out of his memories. He lay there; still, mind mapping out the contours of Teddy's smiling face, ears ringing with his gleeful laughter.

"Ah, well, we seem to have found a sore spot. Interesting." Thanos said, excitement lacing his gravelly, jarring voice.

Harry said nothing.

He was tired. Tired of torture, tired of this bleak planet. But most of all tired of dreading the memories that he would have to relive very soon.

Thanos laughed.


End file.
